


Suit Up

by SteamChesh



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: spar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9193889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteamChesh/pseuds/SteamChesh
Summary: Elanda Cousland got recruited by the Dalish Inquisitor Eravir Lavellan and decides to give Cullen a break by training the troops herself.  Blackwall decides to add himself to the group and a spar that increases morale ensues.





	

Elanda had never felt so tense in her life. She felt like she was on the edge of madness. "You there! Recruit! What do you have in your hand?" She shouted. 

"A-a shield ma-ma'am." 

"Exactly! It's a shield! In your hand! Learn to block with it!" She groaned audibly, "Sweet Maker, it's a long sword not a rapier, don't you know the bloody difference?" 

"I don't mean to intrude..." Blackwall walked up as Elanda huffed and crossed her arms, looking at the recruits, "But what are you doing?" 

"Training the new recruits. Eravir asked me to do it since the Commander-" 

"Cullen would not pass up an opportunity to train his troops." 

Elanda sighed as the man who called himself Blackwall saw right through her lie, "No. You're right... I feel like I'm so close and-" Her grey eyes darted to a sound, "You there, raise your damned arm! Boy, are you daft!" She looked back at Blackwall, "and I thought maybe training them would help." 

"I admire what you're doing... For the Wardens." 

"It's a selfish goal, I do not see what's so admirable." She looked to a recruit, "Re-position your feet if you want a better stance!" 

Blackwall looked like he had an idea, "My Lady." He bowed, "Would you honor me in a spar?" 

"Swing your shield arm if you want to counter him!" She shouted at a pair of recruits, "Are you sure? You'd be fighting a real Warden with her mind still intact, not some mindless soldier under blood magic." She growled at a pair of recruits, "How do you expect to live if you don't strike with force?" 

"You would do me an honor, Lady Cousland." Blackwall bowed. 

"Suit up, then, Rainier." Elanda stares at him, her grey eyes sizing him up. He's 20 years her senior, easy. That's more experience, more time to perfect his technique. However his more recent opponents have been abominations, red lyrium Templars, demons and Grey Wardens controlled by blood magic. 

Her opponents were darkspawn, and this madness that made her envision those she cared about. She looked up at Skyhold's entrance from where she was and she could see Morrigan standing there. Elanda's heart dropped and she wanted to apologize, she wanted to see Keiran. But how could she? 

There was a sound in front of her that brought her attention back, "Are you having a slap fight or sparring?" She shouted and watched a recruit kick another away with a powerful kick, "That's how it's done!" Elanda applauded. 

It took a few moments, as she thought it might, but Rainier came suited up in Inquisition warrior gear. He was still ashamed then. Elanda stared at him for a long moment and a smirk grew on her face, feeling the blood race in her system. 

The whole grounds stilled as the recruits felt the air change as Elanda pulled her silverite helm over her head and drew her sword that seemed sharp enough to slice the air in front of her. Her shield was battered, and clearly repainted, but very much loved. She scooped it up with a practiced ease. 

"You will watch!" She shouted to the recruits who couldn't take their eyes off the legendary Hero of Ferelden, "And you will learn! Or so help me, you will all be next!" 

That got them to quickly put their swords and shields away to sit or stand to watch. 

"Thom Rainier." She addressed him as an equal on the field, and waited for the nod of acceptance and for him to call her name. Which he did, though his opened helmet allowed Elanda to see the uncertainty on his face. Battle is no time for uncertainty. And neither were spars. 

She ran at him first, shield in front of her at full speed- as if she was a battering ram. All of her strength put into her shoulder rammed into his chest, but his feet were apart and his weight distributed properly so he didn't topple over. With an extra bout of reserved strength she shoved him off her shield and deflected his swing as it came down and steel clashed, echoing through the quiet courtyard. With a swing of his shield arm, he connected with her chest, and she used the momentum to roll back onto her feet, raising her shield as his sword came down once more. He put his weight into the swing hoping that the pressure would make her arm give out, to his surprise it didn't, and she retaliated by using her legs like dwarven springs to give his chest another shove off, making him stumble backwards.

His balance was off and it gave Elanda the opening she needed to advance. With each swing he made, she deflected. With each swing he deflected, there was another to keep him off balance. 

He had heard tales of Elanda, always through passerbys or in Taverns. She was a walking fortress, a siege breaker. Off the field she was reserved, quiet and calm. 

What he didn't hear was how she was an expert at hiding her rage until hitting the field. The war cry emitted from the younger woman nearly shattered his resolve, and even though this was a spar, there was still pride on the line. Their swords clanged and steel rang in the chill air of the mountain fortress. He felt the sweat beading on the back of his neck and the lack of air in his lungs, but he couldn't let her see that weakness. 

But she had felt and seen his still unsure footing and her gritted teeth exposed a wicked grin beneath her helmet. With a sudden movement of one of her legs, her knee came into contact with his gut and he very nearly toppled over. 

"Maker's Balls, Cousland." He coughed, grateful that she took a step back to allow him to regain his breath, "You pack quite the punch." 

Or so he thought. 

"I'm the Hero of Ferelden!" She shouted as she rammed into him again, barely giving him enough time to throw up his shield in what he might call a pathetic defense, "I've defeated an Archdemon!" She swung down hard, and he could feel the anger from her words, "If the most I can do is 'pack quite the punch'," She used all of her strength to knock him on his back as hard as she possibly could, "Then I'm losing my touch."

**Author's Note:**

> Eravir Lavellan belongs to constellatedstories! She's super sweet and a brilliant writer!


End file.
